The consequences of most types of violence are so incredibly dehumanising in nature and deprive people of both dignity and freedom that it is mind-boggling to reflect on the topic. Where does reflection start? Do we start with actual or implicit violence; or with violence that is harmful on a physical, psychological, emotional, mental or spiritual level?Not to mention violence with religious, political, ethnocentric, economic, sexual and gender connotations. The philosopher Fanie de Beer, extraordinary honorary professor in the Department of Information Science, refers to “modalities of violence”. He describes the impact of violence in terms of five categories

a crisis of being and existence (“synskrisis”), which amounts to the destruction of a person’s being;

a crisis of meaning and value (“sinskrisis”), which amounts to a person becoming a no-thing, a no-being, a worthless being, in other words it destroys his or her worth (“sinsverydeling”);

a crisis of language, referring to “cursing” which leaves people “speechless”;

an “us” crisis, which means the “loss of love” and a loss of the togetherness which binds people together in a social context;

a life crisis(“lewenskrisis”), which amounts to people taking their own lives in “utter desperation”.

Violence manifests in so many forms and degrees that reflection on the problem could leave one with a feeling of desperation. Crime, rape, the mistreatment of children and xenophobia are threatening not only to quench the soul of people trying to be a living being in South Africa, but also to extinguish the rainbow nation’s light. Addressing the problem calls for a drive that transcends the interests of political groups and requires multi and inter-disciplinary input from thinkers and doers from almost all scientific fields.

To me, René Girard’s “scapegoat” theory offers a useful lens through which the dynamics of violence can be observed and exposed and possibly be addressed. This theory has as its point of departure the notion of mimesis. The success of the “scapegoat ritual” lies therein that the “sacrificial offer” is projected onto something or somebody that is replaced by symbols and in this way is invisibly transposed into the role of the “other”, detached from the “visible” conflicting subject and object. This process is also dramatically and theatrically presented in the form of novels, films, operas and other musical performances. In the process of partaking in these art forms participants are given the opportunity to identify those who do evil, have empathy with the victims, experience anger at the evil caused, thereby getting rid of their own anger – or it could leave them cold.

In antiquity Aristotle began to utilise the role of imitation as a rhetorical technique and used the word mimesis in this context. In essence, imitation is part of socialising and also of how and what we know and how that is internalised. It is through imitation that we learn from others and idealise. Acceptable mimesis leads to the internalising of social behaviour which finds violence unacceptable and also rejects the notion that someone has to be sacrificed for the sake of someone else. The ideal of a conflict free life is identified by means of role models and is thus imitated.

Dr Richard Burridge, the Dean of King’s College at the University of London – a good friend and research associate at the Faculty of Theology of the University of Pretoria – published an exciting book on New Testament theology and ethics in 2007, titled Imitating Jesus: An inclusive approach to New Testament ethics.

One of the most subversive pronouncements to be found in the Jesus tradition is the one about turning the other cheek when struck on the cheek (Q 6:29 // Mt 5:39 // Lk 6:29). It is within such a framework of social and religious thinking that Paul’s version of “turning the other cheek” indeed has an air of subversion about it.

In the Mediterranean social context, according to convention, a person who considers himself to be someone else’s superior, would not strike his opponent with a flat right hand, but with the back of the left hand. Having to hit with a flat hand (in other words with the palm of the hand), would mean that the opponent considers his adversary as someone of equal honour. By hitting with the back of the left hand against the right cheek – the side of the jaw considered to be the more honourable one – not only increases the offensive nature of the violence, but is also indicative of an even greater arrogance on the part of the aggressor.

By turning the left (the “other”) cheek, it is assumed that if the arrogant aggressor ventured another blow, he would be forced to hit with the flat hand, that is with the palm of the right hand, on the left cheek. The implication is that in this way the aggressor has to acknowledge his opponent’s honour (not the right cheek any more, but the left cheek) and that the opponent is of equal standing (having to hit with the palm of the right hand and not the back of the left hand). As one of the experts on the “sociology of the Bible”, Professor Bruce Malina, states “Only equals can play the honor game of challenge and response.” An “equal” opponent does not “deserve” being hit with a flat hand, but should a fight be unavoidable, then his opponent should actually hit him with the back of the left hand on the right cheek! By implication, turning the other cheek would ring an end to the violence, because an “honourable” opponent does not deserve such an insult!

In Paul’s case we are dealing with a process of “psychological development” – and his “success” can be explained in terms of how the scapegoat rite had a positive influence on him and changed him. Paul’s version is that when your enemy strikes out at you with fire and you respond with love, that love becomes like a fire that burns the enemy with shame (Rm 12:20; cf Proverbs 25:21-22). Matthew is the one who specifically mentions that the attacker hits the victim on the right cheek (Mt 5:39). And it is because of this preciseness that it can be assumed that the victim’s counter act resulted in preventing the violence from spiralling out.

To summarise: It has to be borne in mind that when Paul thanked God in 1 Thessalonians for the faith, love and hope of his readers, he did so with only his own group in mind (1 Th 1:3). Here Paul linked the concept of “tolerance” to future hope – as he also did in his last letter to the Romans (Rm 5:3ff). But in his last letter, also writing from Corinth, but almost a decade later, his thoughts on the matter were radically different to when he had written his letter to the Thessalonians a decade earlier, also from Corinth. At that earlier stage his thinking had been that the love for one another within the inner group would earn the respect of the outside group, those outside the Christian faith community (1 Th 4:12). However, he found it impossible to show love to the outside group, those who were so murderous and who had shown so much violence and hostility towards his people, to himself, the earlier prophets and also towards Jesus (1 Th 2:14-16), but to deliver them unto the apocalyptic vengeance of God’s wrath!

During Paul’s “spiritual” life journey a change in attitude set in as far as the initial undisputed distance between an inner group and an outer group was concerned. What has happened here? It appears as if tolerance was given a new definition, because hope for the future had been internalised.

Within the Pauline paradigm faith, love and hope are gifts from God – and when you have internalised those in such a manner, you would unlimitedly grant life to others, and as God, the Spirit and Jesus did, you will begin “to turn the other cheek” rather than to take revenge through violence and murder. What is the appeal? Perhaps love can conquer hubris! Strong moral leadership – by the President and the people of South Africa – can make a difference when Christians truly internalise tolerance and hope for the future. No argument acquits leaders to comply with the commitment to combat extant or potential violence. “The RDP of the soul” asks that we should take the following remarks of Dr Allan Boesak in his “Open Pastoral Letter to the Zimbabwean Churches” to heart:

“I was part of a South African Council of Churches delegation which … had a two-hour meeting with President’s Mbeki and his mediation team on Zimbabwe … In short, I do not think we as a church should have a romantic view about these matters and of the players involved … As mediator, Thabo Mbeki has to take into account both sides, even though it might be clear to the rest of us that one side is lying … The situation of the churches, however, is different. Our mandate … comes from God … We must speak for those who have been deprived of the right to speak, even if it goes against ‘protocol’. Whether Mr. Mbeki wants to or not, we must indict those who perpetrate injustice, who cause suffering … whoever they might be. Our respect for protocol can never stand in the way of truth … The promises of politicians are always subject to, and suspect because of, the promises of God. We can never argue that the suffering of people is the price to pay ‘for the sake of the greater goal’. Which goal, whose goal? We ask. We are always aware that behind every ‘goal’ are powerful interests that are served, and those interests do not often take justice for the powerless as the main criterion … Politics can allow the lie to live, with a view that the lie is necessary in order to make politics possible. The church knows that the lie covers the truth that people are dying … Therefore the church will continue to speak up, to stand with those who are wronged, to rise up in outrage and compassion against injustice and suffering, even if it causes embarrassment to those in power … And as we had to say to ourselves the words with which the Confession of Belhar ends, we say also to you: ‘We believe that, in obedience to Jesus Christ, its only Head, the church is called to confess and do all these things, even though the authorities and human laws might forbid them and punishment and suffering be the consequence’.”